Trip Of A Lifetime Part III: Little T'Mir
by V'Kotik
Summary: Trip and T'Pol rush headlong into the uncharted territory of an interspecies relationship.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

_This is the third story in my series "Trip of a Lifetime", which I started in early 2009. Part I was the first fanfiction story I ever wrote. This series often gave birth to ideas for my other works, so you might encounter similarities to my other stories. It is also the one where I often try less common themes and concepts, so there might people out there, who don't like some of my ideas, especially when the often vast cultural differences between Europe (I come from East Germany) and other continents come into play. _

_This story is fit to be read by older teens, who know about the birds and bees. There is occasional ripe language, but nothing that kids don't hear on the street every day. _

_This story will make no sense if you haven't read the other two stories. I'm providing a short synopsis for both, but it won't make up for actually reading them._

_**Part I: I Grieve With Thee**_

_Shortly after the death of little baby Elizabeth T'Pol and Trip are called before a joint Starfleet and Vulcan commission to be 'debriefed' about the events leading to the child's creation. A Vulcan minister with an own xenophobic agenda tries to destroy the pair in an attempt to have them removed from Starfleet and thus wants to remove their interspecies-romance from the public eye. But Trip and T'Pol fight back with the help of their crew mates on Enterprise and Ambassador Soval. _

_With Kov and Shran Starfleet recruits two more illustrious aliens._

_**Part II: Vulcan Heat**_

_After Trip publicly claimed T'Pol as his mate bang smack in the middle of the High Council chambers, their bond is being witnessed by First Minister T'Pau herself, who has taken a shining to the dashing engineer and his wife. Encouraged by Trip and T'Pol's permission to explore their minds freely during the witnessing meld, the inexperienced and impulsive T'Pau delves deep into their consciousness and unexpectedly performs an unintended bonding meld that leaves Trip and T'Pol bound to her as her _En'ahr'at_ – her adoptive parents. _

_Assigned to Admiral Gardner directly, Trip and T'Pol are marooned on Vulcan until transportation can be arranged. Never content with sitting on his butt Trip buys himself his dream estate on Earth with the help of his mother Cathryn, who gets to know her daughter-in-law better in the process. Trip also manages to procure a shiny new Warp 5 engine – built by the Vulcans. _

_An assassination attempt on T'Pau strengthens the already close relationship between Trip and his adoptive daughter. When the aftermath of the attack on T'Pau reveals a conspiracy that involves a top Starfleet official, Trip learns the hard way that trying to be Vulcan is bad for a human and T'Pol takes radical action to undo the damage he has inflicted on himself – by damaging him some more. _

_Finally back on Earth they settle into life as house owners and T'Pol explores the advantages of human mating customs. When Trip realizes that T'Pau is fairly overwhelmed by the task of being the big leader of Vulcan, Soval comes to the rescue again._

_Trip is missing his recently adopted daughter, a feeling that is painfully mutual and all seems well when T'Pau plans to stay a few days on Earth to recover from an acute bout of exhaustion. But more trouble is brewing, when Travis Maywheather charms Roxana, the hair to the throne on Betazed. Since all Coalition leaders are invited to the resulting wedding, T'Pau gets invited, too. The peculiar tradition of Betazoids to stage weddings as a nudist event, puts T'Pau in limbo as being naked in front of others isn't normal workplace practice on Vulcan. Trip and T'Pol see no other option than volunteering as Earths representatives to provide support for T'Pau during the ordeal._

_Back from the weirdest mission of their lives, T'Pau returns to being big boss on Vulcan, while Trip is busy building the NX-03 Discovery – Shran's new ship. Another chance to see T'Pau presents itself a few months later when she is invited to attend a Coalition conference on Earth. Trip invites her on a climbing trip, but a second assassination attempt on T'Pau nearly succeeds. Despite being badly injured in the attack, Trip takes Shran's completed ship out on a trial run and runs into a Vulcan ship that doesn't appear to be what it looks like. _

_War breaks out when a Romulan invasion force attacks Vulcan. A combined fleet of Earth, Vulcan and Andorian vessels hands the entire Romulan invasion force over to their creator at a great loss of life and sets back the Romulan war effort by over a year. _

_While the Romulans are forced to retreat and rebuild, the Coalition decides to make the best of the break they are given. Trip starts construction of the new Coalition warship "Constitution" - the first of the eponymous class. But before that he will have to travel with his wife to Vulcan. _

_While T'Pol instructs young Vulcan cadets, who have been selected for service on human vessels, Trip is technically on a two week vacation, but that turns into a bus driver's holiday when he has to construct several facilities needed to survive the most dangerous mission yet. T'Pol's plak-tow is about to come upon her and Trip learns the hard way, how much it can cost to be in love with a Vulcan. _

_Now on to Part III – Little T'Mir_


	2. Future Changed

**Future Changed**

She closed the wall panel that covered the surveillance screen after having assessed the current situation. There was none. The only biosigns she had picked up were two patrolling guards in the distance. Those were supposed to be there.

She released the clasps of her robe and the heavy garment slid off her shoulders by gravity alone and pooled around her feet. Suppressing a sigh of relief, she made a step forward to leave the disagreeable piece of clothing behind. With a swift movement she removed the top of her underwear. Hesitating a moment she pushed down the bottom piece too and stepped out of it. _Father is not here, so he cannot be inconvenienced_, she reasoned and put the discarded item on the pile.

She closed her eyes; going through some simple breathing techniques while the slightly stale, but cool air touched her skin, no longer blocked off by any clothing. In a way it was as if all the responsibilities and hardships of her position fell away with the clothing. In the privacy of her adoptive parents' home she could be T'Pau, a young Vulcan, nothing else. She walked over to the environmental controls and started the air conditioning module. After days of disuse since mother and father's departure the air in the house had become insipid.

Opening the terrace door, T'Pau walked out and saw that she would have to do some work to get the dwelling up and running. The pool was closed off with a sliding cover fashioned from a dark synthetic material to avoid evaporation of too much precious water.

After keying open the covered panel next to the entrance she flicked up the main switch, keeping an eye on the small display. When the solar collectors had aligned with 40 Eridiani – as humans called Vulcan's star – the output showed 98% output – well above minimum acceptable levels. Several flicks of switches later, the cover started to retract, while the filter pumps started to hum, beginning the process of refreshing it. A small stream of water trickled out of an opening in the wall as the water synthesizer worked to replace water that had been lost to the planet's heat.

=/\=

"Here we are," Travis said with a smile when they had reached the entrance to the Royal Bungalow which served as the guest house for visiting dignitaries. It was nestled in a quiet corner of a park, which also bordered various Embassies, among them those of Vulcan and United Earth, which were both very recent additions to the landscape.

"Thanks Travis," Trip answered with a grin. "Hell, isn't every day that you're shown the way by His Royal Highness personally."

"You didn't expect me to send a guard, did you? It's only the third time we've had the chance to see each other. "

"Why don't you go inside, darlin'? I won't be long," Trip said to a somewhat restless T'Pol. She duly obliged. T'Pol not wanting to have the last word was worrying, very worrying. They had been cooped up aboard a Vulcan courier for five days, less than a week after her _pon-farr_. It didn't take Surak to work out what made her restless. The incessant mental hum in his mind was a dead give-away.

"Thanks for inviting us, Travis," he said, while fishing the little hypospray with the Tri-Ox from his pocket and he injected the substance in his neck.

"Are you ill?" Travis asked with a worried look.

"Tri-Ox," Trip muttered a bit self-conscious. "There's been a bit of a condition for T'Pol. While we're at it…"

"Don't worry, man," the unspoken question was answered by a very amused looking host. "The building is sound and telepathy proof. I better leave you to your duty."

Trip rushed in as the buzz in his head began to become distinctly unpleasant. Coming here so shortly after her blood fever had been a monumental mistake, but one could not simply refuse a royal invitation, especially since they were still technically part of the Diplomatic Corps. Their affiliation with the department was never rescinded after their first visit to Betazed.

He was prepared for her stance – completely naked, ready to pounce as soon as he was naked, too. The order of the moment was to get undressed in the fastest possible way; else she would help him with that – at the expense of a perfectly usable uniform.

Before he could even grab his zipper he saw her eyes roll back and her unconscious body fall forward. In a desperate lunge he shot forward, his thigh muscles screaming at him for the sudden abuse.

He caught her barely in time.

=/\=

T'Pau fidgeted, something she had never done before. Concentrating on the mixture of conflicting emotions, she realized not all of them were hers. Since she was alone on the spacious estate, they couldn't come from a nearby individual, so logic dictated they were bleeding in from mother's mind, which was unusual as she should have arrived on Betazed by now.

Keeping in telepathic contact over such a vast distance was not unheard of for strong mating bonds, but a parental bond between mother and daughter – biological or adopted – was considerably less pronounced. The current circumstances however seemed to make it possible for mother's emotions to reach her. The most likely explanation was that mother's emotional and telepathic centers were still hyper-stimulated so shortly after the _plak-tow_ and she herself was one of the strongest telepaths on Vulcan. But something must have happened that removed all shielding from mother's mind, too. Even the slightest shielding would stop the contact.

At the current time that remarkable feat was most distracting, however. Her own reign over her emotions had been taxed over the last days as time for meditation had been a lacking commodity. She even had sacrificed sleep in order to work through the backlog of decisions, reports, petitions from several clans and a lot of diplomatic functions.

It was a decision that pained her, but she would have to raise her shields once her mind was calmed again, but to achieve that, meditation was the first and foremost priority. She had just finished laying out a towel on one of the deck chairs, ready to lie down for some quite meditation, even if it would lack the luxury of a human chest to rest her head on or a heartbeat to listen to. On the upside she could stay unclothed. Father had a strict policy of 'no contact without clothing'. The evening sun was still agreeably warm, so she was grateful for this small upside.

When she was positioning her personal communicator on the small table nearby she felt a spell of dizziness and positioned herself on the deck chair to eradicate the sensation. The dizziness went as fast as it had come, but her exhaustion took a toll. After mere minutes of attempted meditation her exhausted body slumped down and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

=/\=

Trip rushed into the medical ward of the Vulcan embassy. Since it had been less than a year since Vulcan and Betazed had established formal diplomatic relations – after their fateful wedding visit – everything had the distinct brand-new feel to it, but Trip currently had no eye for little details like that. His attention was strictly focused on the two Vulcans hurrying in before him, carrying T'Pol on a gurney.

An unknown Vulcan medic hovered his scanner over her and once satisfied that her vital signs were sufficiently stable he shoved the gurney into the imaging chamber, which looked suspiciously similar to the model they had in _Enterprise's_ sickbay.

He was complemented out of sickbay into a bare-walled waiting area with all the charm and luxury of a jail cell. He started pacing the waiting area as the minutes, later hours, of waiting added up.

_Have you ever been so damn angry, irritated and worried that you got a raging hard-on? _He chastised himself in his mind and paced the room like a caged animal. In his panic to conceal the slightly unmistakable sign of his arousal he had hurriedly donned T'Pol's robe over his uniform before the medics arrived. That ensemble made him look ridiculous as the robe was too short to conceal that he wore a standard uniform beneath it. But he preferred the indignation of looking like he possessed the fashion sense of a baboon over walking into the Vulcan Embassy with a raging nine inch boner on display.

=/\=

Trip looked out of the only window directly into the park. They had been here now for over four hours and there was still no sign of his perma-erection going away anytime soon. He was torn between being angry at the uncooperative treacherous organ and himself for his seeming lack of self-control. On the other hand he knew that it was T'Pol's arousal he was experiencing and that meant, at the moment she was neither dead nor comatose. But what they were working on he didn't know, since nobody seemed to be willing to provide any sort of information. Frustration was added to his already tumultuous emotional condition.

His mental rant was cut short when the yet unidentified medic approached him.

"I am Doctor Lorat. Please follow me into my office. We have a lot to discus."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Trip sighed and followed him in a respectful distance. He tried to calm himself, but he felt the bubbling of a veritable rage under the surface.

=/\=

Trip was awkwardly trying to find a sitting position in which the treacherous organ did not threaten to make love to his own rib-cage. Having finally succeeded he directed his attention at the doctor.

"I suppose you are aware that your mate has recently experienced the blood fever," the Vulcan stated the obvious.

"It was sort of hard to miss, Sir."

"What was easy to miss is that your mate has conceived."

"Say what?" Trip asked in disbelief.

"Your mate is in an early stage of pregnancy. But this poses certain problems."

"Ok," Trip stalled for time to get his head around what he had just heard. "Well, let's cut to the chase. The last attempt at a Vulcan-Human Hybrid failed miserably and both T'Pol and I came close to breaking down over it. I want to know: What are the chances? What are the dangers?"

"The chances of survival for the fetus are there, but they are not overwhelmingly large. The success will depend on how successful our medical intervention will be. Currently the fetus is merely a cluster of a small number of stem cells and it will remain that way for 3 to 5 days. After that period any attempt to intervene would be futile as the cell division rate will grow exponentially."

"Can you perform that procedure?" Trip asked, seriously.

"I do not possess the required information, yet your Doctor Phlox does. We have taken the liberty to contact Starfleet concerning the whereabouts of Doctor Phlox. Apparently he still serves on your former vessel. And they are currently patrolling the Coridan system. They were ordered to change course immediately. Meanwhile the Embassy has dispatched our courier vessel on a rendezvous course. If no problems arise, Doctor Phlox can be here in thirty-eight hours."

"I can't thank you enough for your quick thinking," Trip said sincerely and fought the urge to hug the Vulcan.

"Your Admiral Gardner asked us to relay a message."

Trip took the small PADD from the Doctor. The message was short and simple:

_Tucker, what have you gotten yourself into again? Hang in there all of you, we pray for you and your wife._

_Gardner, Admiral_

"Sorry," Trip said and turned away from the Doctor until he had won the battle against the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel that his emotional situation became more precarious by the minute.

When he turned back again, the Doctor showed no sign of offense, nor did he offer any comment.

"Ok, doc. What are the dangers? What happened to T'Pol?" he asked and braced himself for the bad news.

"To put it in simple terms, your mate has been poisoned by her own immune system. The small cluster of stem cells that will become the fetus is made up of one half Human and one half Vulcan DNA. They do however combine only imperfectly, which caused her immune system to attack the stem cells as defective cells."

Trip fought hard not to succumb to the boiling mix of feelings inside him.

"However," the Vulcan continued. "We have put her in high level quarantine, which is why the foreseeable question if you may see her will receive a negative answer. We have put her in a healing trance and have shut down her immune system by medication. We are keeping her in a sterile environment until Doctor Phlox arrives."

"Anything I can do?" Trip asked, accepting the explanation with a resigned nod.

"You could try to survive. You will suffer severe side effects and I would suspect you are not sufficiently trained in shielding techniques."

"I can shield my thoughts, but I can't shut out the bond completely, like she does," he admitted. "What do you mean by severe side effects?"

"Your mate is still in the immediate phase after a _pon-farr_, which is dominated by a strong urge to mate. It takes at least 2 weeks after the _plak-tow_ was resolved to pass this phase. In a trance your mate cannot shield her mind, so these emotions and sensations together with all other emotional impacts will spill over into your mind."

"That explains it," Trip said. "Trust me doc, that arousal you speak of has been with me for a while. Why do you think I'm wearing this ridiculous outfit?"

"I suspected."

Suddenly Trip slapped his forehead. "Dammit, doc! Do you have a subspace terminal?"

"We have, but we can only record and send audio messages. I had to ask the Betazoid authorities to contact..."

"Sorry, later doc," he said frantically. "Where is it.?"

Lorat pointed to the device.

Trip ran over and hurriedly entered one of the few communication codes he knew by heart. The device said something in Vulcan and Trip looked at the doctor, demanding a translation without so many words. He had started to learn Vulcan months ago, but it was not enough to understand a mechanical voice while being in emotional turmoil and most blood being rerouted south to sustain a permanent erection.

"Code accepted, enter security clearance."

Trip entered his private security code.

"Authorized;. Start recording," the doctor translated.

"Honey, it's dad. If you can feel your mom's mind over that distance, do me a favor and yank your shields up, the full program. And don't sleep without a telepathic jammin' device or something. Your mom hit a snag and she be radiat'n stuff you're too young for. Don't think about it, just do it! I'll call ya in the evenin' and do the explainin'. Dad out. Love ya, lil' one."

After finishing his hectic transmission that made him fall back into his southern drawl, he pressed the send button and sat back on his chair, heaving a big sigh of relief.

"Message delivered successfully," the doctor drily translated the machines reply.

When Trip looked back at Lorat, he was met with what he had come to know as the Vulcan equivalent of the 'WTF?' look.

"You have more offspring?" he asked

"Yeah. We are _En'ahr'at_ of a girl, well young woman really. And not only by declaration, but by bonding meld. She's definitely got a bond with T'Pol and maybe one with me, but I suppose that would be too weak to work all the way from here to Vulcan. But she's a mighty telepath and with T'Pol's shielding gone, I don't want to take any chances."

"Fascinating. May I inquire about her age?"

"Thirty three," Trip said. By Earth standard that would be quite well into her adult life, but as I understand by Vulcan standards she's barely out of adolescence."

"Indeed, that's true," the doctor confirmed. "She is sexually mature, but full emotional maturity is reached only around the age of forty years."

"Oh shit, what if she did not get the message in time?"

"Her emotional training should suffice to battle the intrusion. Over this distance, the disturbance will only be a fraction of what your wife or you go through. Unless she is behind the learning curve her meditation techniques should suffice as soon as she has raises her shields. But even if she chooses to resolve the problem by engaging in intimate relations, be assured it is neither unheard of nor illegal. Vulcans have been known to engage in intercourse as early as twenty five years of age."

"You're not helping, doc!" Trip raged, losing the battle against his bottled up confusion. He jumped up from his chair, pacing the room. "We're supposed to be her parents, not a pair of freaks, who mess up a teenager who's supposed to out-Vulcan the lot. She's already picked up enough bad habits from us. Maybe we should have taken up Torok's offer to revert the whole thing! We're certainly not good for her."

The thought of letting go of her brought tears to his eyes.

"Sit Captain." Lorat ordered with a raised voice and Trip was so surprised – he complied.

"I ask forgiveness for the intimate question. Is the child in question First Minister T'Pau?"

Trip stared at him in naked shock.

"Do not be alarmed, Captain. This falls under strictest confidentiality. It was not a difficult connection to make. The mentioning of a bonding meld, which imprints traits of both parents to the young, her sudden talent to elicit amusement and I remember that she touched you most intimately when she decorated you after the Battle of Vulcan. When you mentioned High Priest Torok's involvement, it was logical to assume we are talking about a high-ranking idividual."

"Well, not much use in trying to deny it now, is there," Trip admitted.

"Indeed. But that serves well to alleviate your fears. Minister T'Pau is known to be a strong telepath and possessive of emotional control far beyond what she should have at her age. Even if your mate's influence would hit her at full force, she will be able to fight it with meditation."

"Thanks heavens for small mercies," Trip spat sarcastically, trying to appear calm, but failing. The thought that T'Pau was affected as well had worn down his last defenses.

"I am more concerned about you, Captain," the doctor said. "I do not know how humans react to prolonged arousal and unresolved urges to mate. You could be overwhelmed."

"Well, by now I feel like fucking the raw shit out of anything that couldn't run fast enough, followed by those who could," Trip swore, exhausted by the torrent of warring emotions in his mind.

"It is as bad as I had thought," Lorat said and fetched a hypospray.

"Forget it doc," Trip said and jumped up. "You're not sedating me. We humans... we have ways to deal with that."

He made a vulgar shaking motion with his right fist and stormed out of the office.

=/\=

Trip stood hunched over the toilet of their guest quarters, manhandling the treacherous organ.

"Were the fuck did you come from," he swore loudly at the pitiful drop of ejaculate that floated in the bowl. "Seriously there can't be anything in there anymore!"

That was the fourth time he had given the damn ceramic bowl a facial over the last three hours. Hell, a semi-flaccid was an achievement by now! His mind felt as if a lightning bolt was making mad electric love to a maze of wires. The bombardment of T'Pol's chaotic mix of emotions was running him ragged.

Hoping to be good for at least an hour before his fist needed to ride into battle again, he decided to make hay. A very cold shower and then the call to T'Pau were on the menu.

=/\=

T'Pau woke up to an incessant beep and an unknown torrent of emotions and sensations ravishing her mind, threatening her coherence. She felt an unknown wet sensation between her thighs, but the alarming beep forced her attention to the device emitting it and she flipped open her communicator.

After hearing father's message replayed the third time, she had decoded most of his warning and tried in vain to raise her shields. Since according to the display the message was at least 3 hours old, added to whatever time she had already been asleep when it arrived, all the while being fed conflicting emotions, she immediately knew that she was in trouble. Shielding her own transmissions towards mother was no problem yet, but the torrent of conflicting sensations reaching her was too strong to be blocked out. She knew immediately what threatened her coherence. She had experienced the condition once, but her period of arousal after the mind-meld that had made Charles Tucker III her _en'ahr'at_, had been only passing as she had merely seen human mating practices in his mind. Now she was affected by the real emotion.

T'Pau closed her eye replaying the mind-meld with mother, but that yielded no answer. She now replayed her meld with father and after careful deliberation she had narrowed her options to two. Father knew of two techniques with which a female could achieve relief in absence of a mate. One was a technique involving a cylindrical object, the other one was a completely manual procedure – the decision was made. It was dangerous, but there were little other options available. The two guards outside the estate were female and therefore of little help in this crisis. Would her impaired mind be alert enough to continue the necessary movements in the period of incoherence that preceded the much needed climax?

She hurriedly entered the house.

Mere minutes later a muffled shriek that nobody heard filled the house.

=/\=

"C'mon honey, take the call," Trip pleaded. He was in turmoil trying to make up reasons why her late reaction to the call was actually a good thing. Maybe she was in a council session? Or perhaps she was in their home meditating or sleeping?

_Five more minutes, _he thought to himself. _After that, I'll probably die from worry._

=/\=

T'Pau was lying on her back desperately trying to suck in fresh air. Her body was trembling, her mind a fire plane of unknown sensations. A great relief and contentment were simmering inside her. When coherence finally came back she forced her shields shut with all strength, finally being able to close off any outside influence. Her mind went silent for the first time in many hours. She was just beginning to wonder how many Vulcans had discovered this strange activity by chance, when she realized her sense of hearing and her vision were coming back. Both had been blacked out by the sensory overload that a climax after a prolonged period of arousal caused to a Vulcan.

She could hear a muffled beeping sound and she remembered father's promise to call. When she exited the bed, her legs barely carried her and she needed a moment to steady herself. She was just about to start her way to the living room, when she remembered the 'clothing rules'. In a difficult situation like now, father would most likely not take kindly to it if she met him unclothed.

Since her vision was only still returning, she had to use her hands to find the handle on the clothes cabinet, relieved that at least her tactile sense seemed unimpaired. She squinted her eyes and as her vision grew clearer, she grabbed a T-Shirt and donned it. She left her lower body bare as she didn't want to stain a garment with whatever bodily secretion caused the wet sensation between her thighs. Since she would be sitting at the desk, Father would not be able to see that breach of the house rules in this instance.

=/\=

Sitting down on the towel she had covered the chair with she opened the connection. T'Pau registered his shocked expression as he stared at her for a moment.

"Damn! I should've known it was too late," she could hear him groan and saw him sink his face into his palms.

Now that her vision had recovered, she could clearly recognize her oversight. While father could indeed not see that she had violated the dress code, she had not realized that her erect and hardened nipples had not returned to their usual shape yet. Her bust was covered by the shirt, but it's shape was clearly emerging from beneath the cloth.

"I missed you too, father," she replied, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Have you tried meditating?" he asked worried.

She realized that he thought she was still under the influence of her mother's radiating emotions. She also knew he would definitely not like the answer, but at least his katra would not be poisoned by worrying thoughts although she was sure he would find something else to worry about.

"This is a mere after-effect father. The crisis has already been... resolved."

She flinched slightly, when she saw the look of sheer terror in his face as her words sank in.

"Alone," she emphasized. "I remembered a … technique."

"What have I done, what have I done to her," she heard him reproach himself as he sank his face in his palms again. Most likely he was blaming himself for everything again, like he so often did. That was illogical, even for his standards.

"This is not the time to speak of this. First tell me, what happened to mother?" she demanded.

"Of course, sorry," he said and she suppressed a scowl about yet another apology for an offense that was not existent. She would really need to discuss this with him at an opportune time.

"What happened?" she repeated.

"Ok, uh, she fainted and they brought her to the medical ward in the Vulcan Embassy and then they found out it is ...uh..."

T'Pau raised an impatient eyebrow.

"TheyFoundOutT'PolIsPregnantButThereAreProblems," he finished hastily without breathing once.

She observed him for a while and she saw that he was suffering from wild mood swings. So far she had seen him angry, depressed, frightened, shocked and now he was fighting back tears.

"Have you tried meditating yourself?" T'Pau asked. "You should be well capable of initiating it on your own by now."

"How the fuck should that work?" he asked and she could see him getting angry again. "I need to run to the head once an hour to jack off!"

"Father," she called out patiently. "You are currently exposed to the unchecked emotions of a Vulcan female in the after-effects of the blood-fever. This is no matter to take lightly. Seek solitude. Do not try to keep up appearances. If you feel sadness, cry without shame. If you are aroused, apply the necessary techniques. If you feel rage, destroy something, preferably something that can be replaced. If you are overwhelmed, seek to be sedated."

"So this is why I feel like going mad?" he asked and she saw tears running down his face.

"Yes, this is how it feels to be a Vulcan without full control," she said, pained by seeing her beloved _En'ahr'at_ suffer. "Do not attempt to show false manliness. It is no shame to evade the fight against these emotions. You are not equipped for it."

"I can't," he pleaded. "T'Pol might need me. Phlox will be here in two days and they need to treat T'Pol, else there's not gonna be..."

T'Pau looked away. Seeing him cry helplessly threatened to overwhelm her only recently re-established equilibrium. She made a decision.

"Father, listen to me," she decreed in full 'leader mode'. "You are no help to mother in your condition. The only thing you achieve is destroying yourself. This is not a discussion whether or not you feel uncomfortable with my clothing or lack thereof. This is a matter of survival. I will have all necessary information relayed to Human and Betazoid authorities. Go to the medical ward of the Vulcan embassy and ask to be sedated until mother has overcome the current crisis. I will inform them in advance.

She saw him hang his head in misplaced shame, but she also saw him nod.


	3. Coping Stretegies

Coping Strategies

T'Pau climbed out of the pool feeling refreshed now that the messy aftermath of her first climax ever had been washed off.

Her mind was filled with worrying thoughts about her adoptive parents. While the news about pregnancy were exceedingly pleasing, it also meant they were in grave danger. The viability of the offspring was far from guaranteed. She did not believe that they would easily survive the loss of another offspring. Having recently revisited her mind-melds with them, she knew how badly they had suffered after the loss of baby Elisabeth.

As the sun had gone down and darkness set in, it started to get too cold to be without clothes and T'Pau, having toweled herself dry, donned one of the long plush bathrobes she had procured at the Earth Embassy. While emotional indulgence was frowned upon, she saw no reason to deny herself the agreeable feeling of wearing the soft garment. She flicked the switch that closed the pool's cover and went back into the house.

She knelt down to contemplate the day's events in meditation. Exhausted by the last week she had fallen asleep and nearly succumbed to mother's unchecked emotions, culminating in the need to make her first sexual experience. While that was early for a Vulcan, but not unheard of, she knew it would remain a disagreeable thought for father. She wondered if all human fathers were this inconvenienced by the knowledge that their children had started intimate activity. It was certainly a topic to investigate.

The activity itself had been exceedingly pleasing. But the phase of helplessness after the relief had come was frightening her and she decided not to repeat the experience, at least until she had time to consult with mother. Her adoptive mother was probably the only Vulcan, who could give any explanation for the torrent of conflicting sensations that one experienced when dealing with human intimate techniques. It did however explain the simplicity of Vulcan mating practices. They seemed to be designed to keep the phase of arousal to a minimum. Having now experienced what a prolonged arousal did to a Vulcan's mind, she had a better understanding for this otherwise less than satisfying arrangement.

Seeing father exposed to mother's emotions had been an unsettling experience. He was considered a hero on Vulcan for his part in the Battle against the Romulan invasion fleet. Seeing this strong man reduced to a crying figure, falling almost deliriously from one emotional state into another caused her pain and she made a mental note to check with the embassy on Betazed if he had heeded her advice to put himself out of his misery.

A decision was starting to form in her mind. The current situation was most disagreeable. She started to understand father's misgivings about her position as Head of Government. At 33 she was still seven years from the age at which a Vulcan was supposed to master his or her emotions and only then would the parental bond start to weaken. What if today's crisis had hit during a diplomatic function?

Once she reached forty years of age her preferred type of meditation – resting her head on father's muscular chest and listening to his heartbeat to improve the effects of meditation – would be deemed unseemly. Considering that he demanded clothing to be worn during the process made it clear that even now already, he was not entirely comfortable with it. She was sure that once she was considered a fully adult female, he would no longer allow it. She realized that it most likely originated in the fact that by human standards she had both the age and the appearance of an adult woman. Humans just could not make the strict distinction between the body and the mind that was normal for Vulcans.

There was only one way to resolve this conflict. There were only seven years left during which she could try to make up for lost experiences that were denied by her unusual upbringing. It was unacceptable to spend these years in a position she was too young for. Councilor Soval's year of domestic residence with his mate V'Lar had recently ended and she decided to lobby for his nomination as First Minister. What Vulcan needed right now was a wise and experienced leader, who knew how to cooperate with other species, not a young female, who had never been given the time to find out her own identity.

Additionally, she reasoned, father and mother would need someone to look after her sibling once he or she was born and she refused to think that this would not happen. This would solve all problems at once. She could spend the remaining years of her youth with the beloved adoptive parents and she could spend time researching the intricacies of a Vulcan-Human relationship, which would be helpful for future pairings. Having never acquired a formal education, it would give her the chance to catch up on that and maybe even become an authority in the field of interspecies relationships research.

The decision was made.

=/\=

"Allow me to express my gratitude doctor Mullaskey," Lorat said as he put the blanket over the unconscious body of Captain Charles Tucker III. "I wish he would have come earlier."

"No need to thank me," the human doctor said. "I'm just happy he came to you at all. That I would assist you was the most normal thing to do. If anything it should be me to say thank you that you consulted me instead of just treating him any way you see fit. Such consideration hasn't always been the case in the past between Vulcans and humans."

"Indeed," Lorat admitted. "To my shame I have to admit that I once was a steadfast follower of the doctrine propagated by V'Las' High Command. It took me a long time to accept the truth. The two individuals in my care were instrumental in that process and I experience a great pressure to succeed in facilitating their recovery."

"We all feel that way," Mullaskey answered. "The Tuckers aren't just any people. Phlox will soon be here. I've worked with him before. If anyone can pull off that miracle, he will."

=/\=

_Trip's office on Saturn Station_

"There has been a medical emergency on Betazed," Gardner explained and checked the assembly before him. Two humans, Commander del Rios, Tucker's second had brought his assistant Chief petty officer Maluchenko and the 'highest ranking' Vulcan Professor Solan had come in company of Sonok, a recent addition on recommendation by Tucker himself.

"Del Rios, you are head of the project until Captain Tucker is out of the woods."

"With all due respect, Sir," the Commander replied. "I would suggest handing over the leadership to Professor Solan."

"Oh?" Gardner asked, seeing the clearly chagrined expression on the Commander's face. "Can you explain why?"

"It doesn't exactly reflect well on me, but it took me a long while to accept Captain Tucker's affinity for Vulcans. Our working relationship was always professional, but I think he was working much closer with the Professor as a result of my keeping a distance."

"Well, you're at least honest, Commander," the Admiral replied with a nod. "Is it still a problem?"

"No," del Rios denied. "But we haven't developed the close working relationship yet that engineers need to get stuff done. I think Professor Solan has. He should know Captain Tucker's overall vision much better than I do."

"Do you concur, Professor?"

"I worked closely with Captain Tucker and I know what plans he has in mind and I am willing to occupy his position as long as it is necessary. If I may, I wish to ask Starfleet not to sanction Commander del Rios for his admission. Difficulties to adapt to our alliance are not exclusive to humans. I can bear witness to the Commander's statement that despite his initial reservations, he has always worked professionally and correct."

Gardner saw the Vulcan offer his hand to the human and the two shook hands. He smiled. Even when comatose in a hospital on an alien planet far away Tucker somehow managed to bring people together.

"Ok," he decreed. "Professor, you take command of this operation and Commander del Rios is your right hand. Something tells me you will develop that working relationship to get this ship built."

=/\=

"Later," Phlox dismissed the not yet spoken greeting and went straight to the biobeds behind the privacy screens. Hovering his scanner over the sedated figure of Trip, he collected readings and checked them against the data on the screen.

"Tyropentaphylaminol, 20 milligrams," he ordered and after a while a bewildered looking doctor Mullaskey handed him a hypospray. Phlox injected the substance into Trips neck.

Satisfied with the values he got, he turned to talk to the other two doctors. "I offer my apology for my entrance."

"There is no offense, where none is taken," Lorat quoted Surak. "We are grateful for your presence."

"There is no time to lose," Phlox said and connected his PADD to the Vulcan computer. "I have spent the time it took me to get here to study what we can do. As you can see on this schematic, Vulcans have 46 chromosomes, like humans and most other humanoids. However chromosomes 9, 15 and 41 in Vulcans have longer DNA chains, which causes the incomplete combination of DNA in those chromosomes and subsequently the averse reaction of the immune system."

"How do you plan to correct this?" Lorat asked.

"I'm coming to that dear colleague," Phlox explained and called up a schematic from the data his alter ego on the time-traveling _Enterprise_ of Lorian had left him. "I am not authorized to tell you were these data come from, but there already has been a successful approach to combine human and Vulcan DNA. As you can see, the DNA in the appropriate chromosomes of the male's sperm cells was mutated to contain longer chains. It was basically 'filled' with blank information."

"That would make Vulcan genes dominant in any viable case," Lorat remarked.

"Yes, a Vulcan/human hybrid is only viable with dominant Vulcan DNA. Since the mutation was caused by prior medication of the male, we cannot apply this method. I did however receive Starfleets permission to consult with Doctor Arik Soong, who devised a solution within just eight hours."

"A most remarkable individual," the Vulcan said.

"Indeed he is," Phlox agreed wistfully. "It is a shame he doesn't have the ethic to go with the genius."

"Isn't that the one, who created the Augments?" Mullaskey asked. "Do you really think you can trust this man?"

"When it comes to children, we can trust this man," Phlox said. "What he proposes is that we take the three chromosomes directly from the mother and implant them into the stem cells. This will make the mother's traits even more dominant and the child will most likely be female, but it will result in a viable fetus and more importantly, the child will be fertile, unlike naturally conceived hybrids in Earth's animal kingdom."

"A most logical proposal," Lorat conceded. "But how will you implant this modification?"

"We will infect T'Pol with a viral disease," Phlox replied dead-pan. "Vulcans are mostly immune to the H3N2 type of the human influenza virus. We will extract the necessary chromosomes from cells in T'Pol's Liquor cerebrospinalis, implant them in the virus and infect her with it. The disease will run it's cause in five to seven days and she will now doubt suffer from some symptoms. But nothing that should tax Vulcan physiology unduly. After a week we revive her immune system, which will eradicate the viral infection, but hopefully enough of the stem cells will have been mutated by then to be left alone by her immune system."

"That's quite a radical approach," Mullaskey warned.

"I agree it is somewhat... heavy handed," Phlox agreed. "But it is our own chance to make this pregnancy happen and with the history these two individuals have endured, it is most important that we succeed."

"Then we indeed have no time to lose," Lorat agreed. "The laboratory is this way."

=/\=

"Are you convinced this is the correct course of action?" Soval asked directing a glance at T'Pau as they slowly walked along the corridors of the High Council. "You have led Vulcan well through trying times for over a year. This decision to resign appears rather sudden."

"I may have led Vulcan well, Councilor, but it came at a high price. Your being here is the result of the first episode of fatigue I have experienced. Currently I'm in the second. There was an... incident two days ago during which my fatigue left me extremely vulnerable and a greater crisis could only be averted by somewhat... radical means."

Soval looked at her again, asking for details without asking for details.

"I do not wish to divulge any details," she answered his unspoken question. "Suffice to say that I came to the conclusion that someone more experienced is at the time a better leader for our people than I am. Additionally I have personal reasons for that decision. Many Vulcans of my age are still enjoying the perks of youth, before discipline and service is expected of them. I do not see the logic of denying myself that right."

"A decision most likely influenced by your father," Soval remarked dead-pan, but without any disdain.

"If it was for father, this decision would have been made after the first crisis or after the Betazed mission at the latest. Were he not incapacitated, he would probably chastise me by saying: 'It took you a sweet while, honey'."

Soval raised his eyebrow as amusement simmered in his mind. They came to a stop and Soval observed her stance carefully. She wore a garment that humans illogically referred to as a 'cat suit', even though it bore no resemblance to an Earth feline. Normally, tradition would require her to wear the richly ornamented Councilor's robe, but he suspected that the garment was, what humans called 'a fashion statement'.

Her hair had grown long over the last year – another departure from the well trodden ways of old. He had known for a while that she used the service shops in the human compound rather than Vulcan hairdressers. More than once he had noticed a subtle make-up when she was greeting visiting dignitaries. He thought back to the young girl, who had carried the _Kir'Shara_ into the High Command. She did not have the highest regard of Humans back then, barely rating them more intelligent than a _sehlat_. Now she was the adoptive daughter of a human and a regular guest in their compound.

Soval thought about her request to resign. Was it really that illogical? The child did not have any formal schooling, nor did she have any professional title. She would be unable to provide for herself were she not in the High Council. By resigning, she could correct that and with her insight into Vulcan/human relationships, she could become a valuable asset to the Academy of Science. It was only logical that T'Pol and Captain Tucker would not be the only Vulcan/human pairing forever and more knowledge was therefore imperative.

"I believe I begin to understand your logic," Soval declared. "I shall 'throw my hat in the ring' as your father would say. But I have one condition. You must allow the High Council to ensure your safety, even after you resigned. I have maybe fifty years still to live and I would not wish to spend all of them as the First Minister. You need to be prepared to return to the post in two or three decades at the latest."

"Of course, Councilor."

"Then we have a proposal to offer to the Council," he said as they reached the door to the main chamber. "Shall we?"

"Indeed."

=/\=

Admiral Gardner heard a crashing sound from the corridor and shook his head. Some fresh-faced young officer had probably bumped into someone else again. In the next moment the office door was snatched open forcefully and Ensign Ruri Katami, his personal assistant, came running in with a PADD clutched to her chest.

"Admiral," she wheezed, completely out of breath. "This just came in from Vulcan. First Minister T'Pau has resigned."

"Say what?" he asked, looking at the calendar – nope, it was already April 3rd. He took the PADD from her and the scratch marks on it told him that it was Ruri, who had just kissed the floor outside.

"Sit down, before you fall down...again," he said with a fatherly smile and the out-of-breath Ensign sat down in the comfy chair, blushing and rubbing her right knee.

He read the short note that had been relayed by the Vulcan Embassy.

"Guess, I should have seen that coming," he said, putting the PADD down. "Tucker and T'Pol are in danger and that little gal is alone with the weight of the whole planet on her shoulders. At least Soval is a known entity. He's been her main adviser, so I don't think much will change in terms of politics."

"Do you know why she resigned?" the young Ensign asked.

"I have a pretty good idea, Ruri. But it isn't really anyone's business."

=/\=

Phlox released a drop from the vial before clipping it into the hypospray injector. He checked the drop under the microscope again. Satisfied with what he saw, he let Doctor Lorat help him don the hazard suit. As the only one actually susceptible to the mutated influenza virus, Dr. Mullaskey had been banished from the premises. Phlox walked into the decon chamber to have the suit and the injector cleaned of all bacteria and viruses prior to entering T'Pol's chamber.

He passed the decon lock and entered the clean room in which the unconscious body of T'Pol was resting on a biobed.

"We have been a bit impatient, T'Pol, hm?" he asked in a whisper and with a teary smile. He injected the hypospray that contained the genetically modified influenza virus. "I'll do everything I can to make it work this time. I promise you."

Having administered the dose, he checked the readings on the monitor. Her vital signs were mostly stable.

Looking at her unresponsive face one last time Phlox left through the decon lock.

=/\=

The suit was off her shoulders as soon as the door had closed behind her. A short look at the monitor told her, that except the two guards at the foot of the hill, as could be expected, there were no other individuals in the vicinity. T'Pau strode quickly towards the terrace door and opened the 'fun panel' as father used to call it. A few switches flicked and everything was running again. The pool cover opened. She quickly discarded her underwear and dove into the cold water, suppressing the urge to whoop and cheer. Splashing around in the water, she enjoyed the knowledge of not having to return to the High Council the next day.

Once her need to cool off had been satisfied, she exited the pool and toweled herself dry. Walking into her parents' bedroom she fetched a pair of yoga pants and put them on. She walked to the terminal and logged into the Earth Embassy network. Despite her resignation from the High Council, Soval – now First Minister – had let her retain some of her security clearances. One of them was the permission to access official communication between embassies and with a great sense of relief, she read a report from the embassy on Betazed that Doctor Phlox had arrived and had treated her adoptive mother.

She closed her eyes and applied a few breathing techniques to calm herself. Her biggest wish was to board a vessel and rush towards Betazed. But that would achieve nothing. She would just be there with nothing to do and no means to help them. It was better to stay on Vulcan and start planning the change in her life. Of most importance was the acquisition of formal education.

Since her parents would return to Earth once their stay on Betazed was over, she looked at opportunities to join the schooling program at the Vulcan embassy at Sausalito. She started typing a written request to join a specialized program that would hopefully not require her to attend the full twenty years schooling period that Vulcan children had to go through. After all, in most mental and spiritual disciplines she would most likely surpass her teachers, but not much science had been taught in the Forge. Finishing her request, she sent it to the Vulcan Embassy on Earth with a copy directed to Soval's account.

=/\=

The first thing she noticed was the searing head ache and the feeling of lying in the burning light of Vulcan's sun, but when she opened her eyes, she noticed that she was on a biobed in a decon chamber. The light brown color of the walls suggested that it was a Vulcan design. Humans usually colored their medical facilities in various shades of white or green.

Looking around she found the button to summon a doctor, but she didn't need to do so as the airlock type door opened and a seemingly familiar portly figure waddled into the chamber, wearing an isolation suit. T'Pol squinted her eyes.

"Doctor Phlox?" she asked. Her voice sounded weak.

"The very same," he answered and flashed her an impossibly wide smile through the window of his protective hood.

T'Pol gasped when the doctor carefully removed her blanket and she realized that she had been divested of all her clothing. Even more distressingly, her whole body was covered in sweat – an alarming signal for a Vulcan – and dozens of sensors had been fixed to her abdomen, her arms, breasts and even her temples. An infusion fed a clear liquid into her body.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked as fear welled up in her. The lack of response from Trip's mind fueled her fear even more.

"Two days ago Doctor Lorat had to administer an immuno-suppressant as your immune system did not agree with a recent addition to your anatomy," Phlox explained entirely too chearful for T'Pol's taste.

"What... addition?" T'Pol asked. Surely the doctor could not be this amused by finding a tumor growing inside her.

"A little cluster of stem cells that with a little fortune will grow into a Human-Vulcan hybrid over the next 12 months."

"I am pregnant?" she asked, hear voice breaking at hearing the unexpected news.

"Technically not yet," Phlox explained and she saw him sit down next to the biobed. "The cell cluster is not yet big enough to attach itself to the uterus. We first have to make sure that your immune system stops attacking the stem cells."

"Then Paxton was right," she said unable to hide her frustration. "Humans and Vulcans cannot interbreed."

"Nonsense," Phlox dismissed her sentiment. "Of course they can. You are the living proof. But humans and Vulcans need medical help to make a pregnancy viable. They evolved on two different worlds after all."

"Is this why I suffer these symptoms?"

"No," Phlox explained. "You are suffering from the symptoms of a human influenza. We infected you with a mutated influenza virus in the hope that it will do the necessary modifications to your future offspring's stem cells to make them palatable to your immune system. It is a frankly severe method, but it is necessary as normally the needed genetic interference would have to be introduced to the male's sperm cells before conception."

"Speaking of the male," T'Pol groaned, accepting the cold rag Phlox put on her forehead. "What happened to Trip? I cannot sense his mind."

"He turned himself in yesterday to be sedated. Apparently your adoptive daughter urged him to do so after she could sense the turmoil as far away as Vulcan. He was exposed to your unchecked emotions when your shielding failed and as you know, humans are not equipped to deal with emotions of such intensity."

"I don't even want to think about it," she said in a breaking voice.

"Is there a problem?" Phlox asked innocently jumping back when T'Pol looked at him furiously. The cooling rag flew off her forehead as she glared at him.

"Doctor, it has been less that a month since my blood fever. I do not feel many emotions other than overwhelming arousal and an almost unsuppressible urge to go to him and take what I crave." She kicked away the blanket and pointed at her very erect nipples. "Does that give you an idea?"

"He would probably say 'No points for guessing that your emotional control is somewhat brittle at the moment'," Phlox analyzed sarcastically.

"Trip is excitable at the best of times," she ranted as tears threatened to make a break for freedom. "He would never be able to suppress an arousal as overpowering as mine at the moment. What if my emotions drove him to seek release with another female? I would forgive him, but he would not forgive himself for the rest of his life? He abhors infidelity. What if my unchecked emotions drove him to..."

"Calm down, T'Pol!" Phlox ordered forcefully, stunning her into silence.

"He managed to withstand it for a surprisingly long time. According to T'Pau using autonomous methods. I'm sure you are familiar with them. At least I hope so, because those are the only relief you have at your disposal yourself for the next two weeks."

T'Pol stared at him. "You wish me to masturbate?" she asked in disbelief.

"You can try to manage your arousal by meditation, but I would suggest you do not tax your emotional control any more than necessary. The sooner you are able to shield your mind and have a more robust control, the sooner we can rouse Captain Tucker out of his sedation."

"If you would please give me the necessary privacy then," she demanded in embarrassed frustration.

"Of course," the doctor replied seriously. "Call me if you need anything."

As soon as the airlock door had closed, she reached down with her right hand and applied the necessary techniques to find much needed relief.

=/\=

After the Battle of Vulcan they had fully disclosed their relationship to Starfleet. There had been no point in denying it anyway after she had embraced her adoptive father in front of a huge audience after pinning the Vulcan Order of Merit to his uniform. As a result she was now a dual citizen as of three weeks ago and officially listed as the daughter of Charles Anthony Tucker III and T'Pol of Vulcan.

She sighed as she closed the latest communication from Phlox. Only her recently acquired official status of adoptive offspring allowed Phlox to divulge details about their status to her. Mother was suffering symptoms of the artificially induced infection, but she was stable and father was still sedated but in no danger. It was not an ideal situation, but considering what her beloved parents had gone through in the past it was almost minor in comparison and the potential outcome was more than an agreeable motivation to endure the hardships of the current situation.

She shut down the communications console and donned the well-worn overall she had been issued by her hosts. Now that she no longer was the First Minister, she no longer had access to the luxury of being transported to Earth on a Vulcan cruiser or an ambassadorial courier vessel. Instead she had booked a fairly inexpensive passage aboard the human cargo vessel _Horizon _that was on a last supply mission before a major service at the shipyards of the United Earth Cargo Authority. Now that Earth was at war with the _Rihanssu_ UECA had decided to improve the weapons of as many cargo ships as possible.

They were delivering engineering supplies for father's construction project from Vulcan to Earth and with interest she had learned that the Captain of the ship was the brother of one of father's former ship mates, a man she had gotten to know as Prince Travis I of Betazed, when she had attended his wedding ceremony.

_Father would probably say 'Space is a small place', _she thought as she zipped up her overall and left toward the cargo bay.

"Seriously Miss T'Pau, you are a passenger on this flight," the dark skinned captain said as she walked into the cargo bay. "You've been hauling boxes for twelve hours last night. I had thought humoring you once would have cured you of your helpfulness."

"On the contrary, Mr. Maywheather," she replied. "It convinced me that I had made the right decision. Have you ever been isolated from most people, being forced to make important decisions."

"Been there," the human said. "I was forced to take command when my dad died unexpectedly."

"How did you solve the problem?"

"I reconnected with my crew. Once I gave up my seclusion things started to work out."

T'Pol could see that the human got the idea as he started smiling.

"Cargo section C5?" she asked, pointing at a large cargo container. The human nodded. Without much effort she hoisted it up. Her bigger strength and the lowered gravity on the Earth ship made it a relatively easy task.

"By the way, Mr. Maywheather," she said turning back after a few steps. Her fathers voice resounded in her mind. "I have 'been there', too. But in my case it was no ship, but a whole damn planet."

She turned around and walked away to deliver the container to its intended location.


End file.
